


Time Passes a Little Easier When You're Around to Annoy

by Sunsetsky13



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Bouncer Buck, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Humor, I Tried, M/M, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson Needs a Hug, Stripper Steve, meet cute-esque but they already kinda know each other just not super well, minor theme of ptsd and recovery, that was the working title for so long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:00:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21929380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunsetsky13/pseuds/Sunsetsky13
Summary: My Stucky Secret Santa prompt. I really hope you enjoy, friend!Bucky really needs a job after being discharged from the army. Anything to get him out of bed and a little cash in his wallet. He gets a gig as a bouncer in a strip club. He wasn't seeking out a workplace romance, but if he likes them and they like him, well, why not take a chance?
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 10
Kudos: 152
Collections: Stucky Secret Santa 2019





	Time Passes a Little Easier When You're Around to Annoy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bangyababy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bangyababy/gifts).



> Yeah, I know, a Stripper AU without smut?? Oops. I’m not totally confident writing smut and I got a little caught up in the world building and setting up a recovering Bucky. Hopefully there’s something to enjoy, regardless!

If you had told Bucky five years ago, that he would one day watch a live strip show and be bored out of his fucking mind, he would've thought you were insane.

But that was his current situation. Granted, it was now his job to keep an eye on the shows. Make sure the creeps paid before smearing their grubby hands on the boys, stayed off the stage, all that shit. The stage was the worst security rota, in Bucky's opinion. He was one of the few who liked being outside; the majority of the time, the banter was fun and he could actually hear himself think. He also didn't bitch about the cold this time of year.

Well, he knew why his manager preferred him near the stage. The dancers fucking loved him. He was the terrifying Russian cyborg that could just tap a pervert on the shoulder, and they would yelp and slide away back to their seat. He kind of regretted using the thick accent in the first place. It was just meant to be the once, when some rich fucker in the champagne room wouldn't shut up about his money or rights or whatever, so Bucky just pretended he didn't understand his, ‘American capitalist nonsense.’ Fury found the whole thing hilarious and told him to use that voice all the time; it sounded great.

He hadn't even had the chance to use it. It was winter, a weekday, so of course everything was slow. There were less dancers than usual because of that, so the ones that were around were preserving their energy for the hours ahead. Not to say the performances were bad - no, Bucky would never say that - but the slow music playlist had been chosen, which didn't help Bucky in his quest to keep his eyes open. 

Most of the customers around were regulars who were just there to see their favorite guy and hang out. However, one of the patrons was new. He was Clash Shirt for now. He kept glancing away from the stage, more interested in Bucky. Specifically, at Bucky's left arm, even though most of it was covered by his sleeve. Bucky wasn't all that proud of the metal monstrosity and sometimes the dancers complained that it reflected strobe lights into their eyes. But it was partly visible, silver and gleaming under the fingerless gloves.

Eventually, Clash Shirt ignored the dance completely, so Bucky rolled his eyes and walked over to him and his friend. "You got something to say?"

"Where d'you get it?" asked Clash Shirt, not even a little intimidated. "I'm pretty sure I already know the answer, but still, tell me."

Bucky blinked. "Uh... Stark In-"

"I knew it!" The man jumped up and grabbed Bucky's arm before Bucky knew what was happening. But before he moved to throw Clash Shirt into the dumpster, he took a closer look at the guy's face and-

Oh shit. Tony Stark. Whom had given Bucky the arm in the first place, after his tour. He was actually curious as to what Stark would say. Bucky had been asked to check in regularly after the arm was attached, but he'd lost contact a while ago. He’d lost the will and never found it since.

Bucky nodded at Rumlow, signaling that he didn't need help. Rumlow returned to his place, albeit with an eye on him. It was pretty intimate; the way Stark was touching him would never fly if he did this to a stripper. One hand brushed its way up to Bucky's shoulder, while the other tested the movement of Bucky's fingers.

"Good, good, you're keeping this thing well maintained. Are the sensors still working? Can you feel everything I'm doing?"

"Most of them work fine," replied Bucky. He dropped the Russian tilt and Stark raised an eyebrow, but that didn't hold his attention for long.

"What do you mean, most?"

"I can't feel everything around my elbow, but it ain't really a big deal-"

"Hey," interrupted Stark. "Just cause it's not a big deal, doesn't mean I can't fix it. Show me, tell me where it's dead, big guy."

Bucky rolled his eyes and demonstrated, rubbing the inside of his elbow and the lower half of his bicep. He didn't expect Stark to step even closer and lift Bucky's sleeve, peering down at the highlighted spot.

Bucky had to make a lot of sacrifices in this job when it came to personal space, but this was pushing him to the edge, fast.

Even his friend intervened. "Tony, buddy, you gotta step back. Give him your card and let him come to you later, okay?"

Bucky took a deep breath and pushed away the vulnerability seeping out. "Listen to your friend, pal."

Stark blinked up at him, then nodded, dropping the arm a little reluctantly. "Right, got it, lemme just-"

_"Hey!"_

Before Bucky knew it, a whirl of little, angry dancer flew between himself and Stark. Bucky groaned; he hadn't even noticed Steve on the main floor.

"What the hell?!" Stark was somewhere between blocking himself and running around the table as Steve did his best to manhandle him. To be fair, he was doing better than usual. Stark wasn't particularly tall, either.

"When we say don't grab the staff, it means all the staff, you creep! You think you're the first fucker to try and get a metal hand up their ass?! Cause it's gonna have to make way for my foot!"

Bucky tried to hold Steve back, but he was a squirmy guy. And honestly, sweaty too. He must have been dancing for longer than Bucky had noticed. Just how long had Stark been staring at him?

Eventually, Rumlow intervened and together, they managed to wall Steve in. "That's enough," said Rumlow. "Don't hurt yourself, little guy."

"And what the fuck have you been doing?!" demanded Steve. "Could you not see how uncomfortable Bucky was?!"

"Barnes made it clear that he didn't need my help," explained Rumlow, getting ruffled at Steve's accusation. "So, I fucking listened to him."

"But what if something happened?!"

"Rogers, we have radios, other bouncers and a shit-ton of regulars around. Do you really think Barnes would've been left to fend for himself?"

Thankfully, Steve didn’t press and embarrass Bucky even further. Stark was hovering at the edge of the table, looking uncertain. The other guy had disappeared.

"Where's your friend?" That was the first thing Bucky needed to know.

"Oh, Bruce? He's out. He can't deal with conflict," replied Stark.

"He's safe?" Not that Bucky could do much outside of the club, but always good to build a rapport. At Stark's nod, he continued. "What about you?"

"What about him?" spat Steve. Bucky sighed and pulled him in, letting Steve relax against his side.

Stark shuffled forward carefully, then placed a card on the table. "That's for you, soldier. I'm serious about fixing the arm. It was my baby project for so long. I'm happy to run a full diagnostic if you want."

Bucky’s stomach lurched at the off-handed title, but he took the card. "Sure. You staying?"

Stark's eyes lit up. "Can I?"

"No," said Steve.

"Steve, he's Tony Stark. He's fucking rich and he didn't do any-"

"Just because he's rich and he targeted you instead of a dancer, doesn't mean he should get a free pass!"

Here we go again… Bucky nodded at Stark and led Steve into the backstage area, before Fury or Peggy could see them getting riled up in public again. "He didn't target me; he fucking built the arm. He wanted to-"

"He was feeling you up! Clint said he was grabbing you like this!" Steve took hold of his own bicep, scratching it sensually.

"He didn't grab me. he was just checking the sensors..." Bucky's protest died in his throat. That didn't sound as good as he thought it would.

Of course, Steve scoffed. "Sensors! Right, cause that's the main priority and not something like, is there any pain? Can you move it okay? Jeez, Bucky!"

"You know you're not my fucking guardian angel, Steve." Bucky scowled. "I can take care of myself."

Steve's expression grew pained. "Yes, I know, but the second it comes to your arm, you stop trying! These people shouldn't be grabbing you and I don't understand why you let them!" Bucky tried to turn away, but Steve placed his hands on either side of his neck. "No, look at me. You're not some fucking freak show for them to gawk at and touch with their friends. Or a new fetish for them to try or whatever they tell you. You deserve more respect than that."

"It's a fucking strip club," muttered Bucky. "People don't come here to respect others."

"So, make them," shot back Steve. "You're a good guy, Buck. Everyone wants you here, but not if you're gonna let them break you down like this."

"You tell him, Steve!" called out Pietro, somewhere touching up his makeup. "Also, get back on stage. It's gonna start emptying out if the poles aren't being danced on."

Steve smiled tightly and patted Bucky's shoulder. "Have a good night, pal. Stay away from Stark, I mean it."

"Wait, what?! Like, _Tony Stark,_ Stark?!"

Bucky sighed and went back to his post. That was probably the most interesting the night was going to get.

\----------

He was mostly right. Stark eventually disappeared into the champagne room. Steve was gone soon after, to perform for one of his regulars. Bucky was friendly enough with the other dancers, but except for maybe Pietro, he didn't talk to them often. Some of them weren't interested in work friends, while others just didn't know him well enough.

He was almost relieved when Peggy called him up to her office near the end of his shift. It was even better when she greeted him with a smile. "You looked like you were sleeping standing up out there."

Bucky shrugged. "I'll take an easy night any day."

"Of course." Peggy grinned. "Fury’s going to cover for you while you’re up here."

"Did something happen?"

"No, no, poppet, there's nothing to worry about. It's just as we get closer to the new year. There's a few evaluation forms I'd like you to fill out. What hours and positions are preferable, any concerns regarding management, all that tosh."

Right. Tedious, but necessary, guessed Bucky. Afterwards, he and Peggy gossiped about the various patrons still mingling around. She was very happy that he hadn't chased off Stark; his money alone was turning up the profit for the night.

"But if he tries anything with you again, feel free to send him to the curb," said Peggy.

"Did Steve snitch me out?" chuckled Bucky.

"No, I could see him staring at you. Honestly, if Steve hadn't been his usual self, I would've paged Rumlow myself to send the bloke home."

"He really didn't do anything-"

"Perhaps not, but you were right. Steve does snitch." Peggy turned to face him fully and Bucky got the impression, this was the real reason he was here. "You've been working here for three months now. How has it been thus far?"

Bucky paused, making sure his answer was honest. "It's much better than I expected. I'm glad Sam introduced me to you. You're an amazing manager."

Peggy smiled but brushed off the compliment. "I think you've been great, too. You have a good instinct for trouble and excellent crowd control. I have to admit, I enjoy watching the reactions to your Sergeant voice from up here." 

Bucky forced a grin; using that voice and slipping back to those times usually made him feel nauseous for days, but in the heat of the moment, it often felt good.

Peggy's voice dipped. "But I care about the mental and physical health of all my employees. I've seen your behavior change for several nights after intense conflict. You don't have to explain or justify anything, but I hope you are thinking about how this role will affect you in the long term. No job is worth your happiness."

That was nice of her, but his bills didn't see it that way. He couldn't think of what to say. Yeah, maybe this job was fucking him up, but not much more than lying in bed and staring at his ceiling for hours on end had been. Sometimes, he even felt like he was doing something close to living.

Thankfully, Peggy didn't push. "You remember that we can look at insurance options for you if you need to talk to someone, okay? Just set up a meeting with Fury. You won't be the first one to come to him." She placed a warm hand on his shoulder and smirked. "And for the record, he's really taken a liking to you."

"Yeah?" If he had, Bucky hadn't noticed. The guy was colder than his grandpa's dacha during the Siberian winter.

Peggy shrugged. "You're younger than the other bouncers by at least ten years. They're all developing a big brother instinct." She stood to leave the office. "Let's pick up the cash and then you're free to go."

Of course, 'free to go,' just meant clocking out. He still had to escort the dancers back to their cars. Steve was one of the last out, holding his stuffed backpack and heels in front of him. It was always a jolt to see him without makeup, in simple jeans and sneakers. Bucky appreciated it in a way; it was a visual cue that the night was over and his job was done.

"I'm ready," said Steve, his eyes on Bucky. Bucky nodded and walked alongside Steve as they made their way to the blue Honda. Bucky couldn't imagine ever comfortably driving something so small, but the last time he tried to bring it up, Steve had chased him around the parking lot, refusing to drive off until Bucky apologised for calling his vehicle, 'little-people-sized.'

Steve thanked him and Bucky kept a look out for anyone who may have been following, but barely anyone was still around at this point. It was too cold to hang about.

"No! Shit, fucking fuck!"

Bucky glance down in alarm to see Steve's car refusing to start. Oh, that was shit. He peered through the window, but honestly, he didn't know a thing about how cars worked. Steve didn't seem to either, as his main tactic was apparently to just hit the vehicle. To be fair, that was often Steve’s response, when things didn't go his way.

Eventually, Steve gave up. He turned to Bucky in surprise. "You still here?"

"I have to be." Bucky shrugged. "You ain't gone yet."

"Shit, I'm sorry. You must be freezing!" Steve got out of the car and leaned against it, sighing. "I need a ride from Pietro and he's gonna kill me..."

Bucky braced himself. "You're in Brooklyn, right?"

Steve turned to him; his eyes hopeful. "Yeah. Are you close?"

Bucky grinned. "Have we not talked before or somethin'?"

"Jerk." Steve jostled Bucky's shoulder, then pulled his things out of his car. I know you’re a fucking Brooklyn bitch. Don't mean you still live there."

Bucky’s car was close. Steve threw everything into the back seat once Bucky unlocked the doors, while Bucky sat in the driver's seat and placed his phone precariously in front of the radio, open on Maps. "Just type your address in."

"Hold on a sec." Steve was on his phone, his thumbs darting about furiously. "I might have just got kicked out of my own apartment for the night."

"What the fuck?!"

"Well, not kicked out. I forgot Pietro was inviting his fucking ex over tonight."

"Oh, no."

"Exactly! Guy's an asshole but, _'Oh, Steve, he is good lay,'_ so I keep meeting the fucker." Steve whined, "I won't be able to sleep tonight."

“Geez, I’m sorry, pal.” Steve reluctantly wrote in his address, so Bucky began to drive. “I didn’t know you and Pietro were roommates.”

“Yeah, it’s only been a few weeks. He used to live with his twin, but she’s gone back to Sokovia, so he needed to move somewhere cheaper.”

“Huh. And I thought strippers get decent cash.”

Steve scoffed. “Sure, but after my medical bills? And student loan? And living in fucking New York? Doesn’t exactly last long.”

“You still study?”

“Yeah. Animation.” Before Bucky could respond, Steve held up his hand. “If you're about to give me shit...”

Bucky gasped, as if scandalized. “Of course not! I would never disrespect my savior like that.”

“I know you won’t, tough guy,” Steve teased back. After a pause, he said, “Tell me about you, now.”

Bucky shrugged. “Not much to say. I’ve been on my own since Sam moved out. I study an online course. Programming.”

Steve nodded. “Good choice.”

“For once.”

Steve hummed thoughtfully. “So, you have a spare bedroom?”

Bucky chuckled. “Cheeky, cheeky,” he said, in his best Peggy impression. “Sam took the mattress. Best I can do is set up the couch for you.” And there was no double-entendre there. Steve was cute, but Bucky was conking out the second his head hit the pillow.

Hopefully, Steve was on the same wavelength, even as he replied, “That’s all I need. Well, maybe a shower, too.”

Bucky sniffed around like a dog. “Just maybe?”

“Hey!”

\----------

Steve was clearly just as tired as Bucky. Once he was out of the shower, he mumbled a quick, “thanks,” and collapsed onto the sheets Bucky had placed on the couch. He didn’t even give Bucky time to offer his own bed; a custom Bucky’s grandma had drilled into him while teaching him how to be a good Russian host.

When Bucky woke up the next morning (way too early, but it was impolite to sleep in with guests present), Sam had sent a text.

_U free to talk?_

Bucky called back immediately. “Hey, you okay, pal?”

“Yeah, man. Just need a little motivation. Did I wake you up?” It was a minor pact between the two veterans. If one of them was feeling low and having problems getting through their day, they could call the other and try to inspire a pick-me-up. It didn’t always work, and Bucky sometimes couldn’t even look at the phone without feeling nauseous. Like he was just another one of Sam’s unnecessary burdens. Thanks to Steve, Bucky had woken up in a real good mood for once. He hoped he could help Sam.

“Nah, I’m up. I’m gonna make breakfast now, for me and Steve. You feel like coming?”

Sam was silent as he thought, then hollowly replied, “No, I can’t today.”

“That's fine. What about sticking around on the line?”

“Are you sure? I ain’t trying to ruin your afterglow, dude.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “You ain’t. He just needed a place to crash.”

“Riiiiight. You know everyone can see the sexual tension between you two, right?” Sam’s tone lightened. Obviously, nothing distracted him better than his incessant need to tease Bucky.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “You really think I have that kind of energy after a shift?” Suddenly, he halted, as he realized there a pleasant scent creeping in from the main room. It smelt suspiciously like bagels. “The hell…?”

He opened his bedroom door without thinking, to see Steve fully dressed. He had a couple of paper bags in his hand, which Bucky recognized from the nearby bakery. Had the guy really gone that extra mile…? 

Steve grinned over at him with a chirpy, “Morning!” A second later, his gaze whipped around again, which is when Bucky remembered that he went to sleep only in his sweatpants.

“Oh, shit…” Bucky stepped back into his room. “Hold on, I’ll pick up a shirt somewhere…”

“No, no, it’s okay…”

“Huh?”

“Uh…! As in, I’m not traumatized or nothing. If that’s what you’re worried about…”

“Sure, doesn’t mean you wanted to see me like this, though.”

“Well, no, not while it’s making you uncomfortable…”

Bucky’s jaw dropped.

Steve groaned and turned away. “Shit, no, that's too honest for this time of day…”

Sam wasn’t on speakerphone, but he didn’t need to be. His laugh was loud enough for both to hear. Bucky glared at the phone, but fortunately, Sam hung up before he had to respond. He supposed he was happy that Sam was maybe feeling better. But only as a formality.

Steve blinked. “Who was that?”

“Sam.”

“Fuck. He’s not gonna let that go easily, is he?”

“Definitely not.”

“Amazing.” Steve glanced up at the heavens, then looked around Bucky’s kitchen. “Do you have Nutella?”

“Second cabinet, top shelf.”

Steve glanced up. “Oh, fuck off!” He whirled back to face Bucky, who was forgoing the shirt after all. Since Steve apparently had no complaints… “Why are your cabinets so damn high up? Who lives like this?!”

Bucky chuckled. “You need help?”

Steve glanced over at one of the chairs, but Bucky didn’t want him to hurt himself. He stepped in to help. Did he stand a little closer behind Steve than necessary? Who needed to know?

“Your pits fucking stink, if you’re trying to be sexy.”

Bucky laughed. “I liked you better when you were accidentally flirting with me.”

“I liked you better when you were far enough that I didn’t have to smell you.”

“Okay, I get it. I’ll go shower.”

“No, I just bought these. They’re still warm. You can shower after you eat.”

“Are you always this bossy as a house-guest?”

Steve flushed, which was just adorable. “I honestly didn’t want to impose on you last night. Thanks for letting me crash here.”

Bucky's heart softened. “It’s no problem. Thank you for the breakfast, pal.” He bustled around Steve, taking out various fillings. Steve might want Nutella, but he preferred savory food to go along with his morning coffee. However, he had a moment of sudden insecurity while placing the plates. Should they be facing each other, like a date? Would that be awkward? Or should he sit around the corner and turn on the TV? Sure, Steve might have a physical interest in him, but workplace dating was a big no-no for many people. What was Steve’s view?

“You okay?” asked Steve.

“Um…” _Damn it, Barnes, just spit it out._ “Do you maybe wanna make a date out of this or keep it casual?”

Thankfully, Steve grinned widely before the pit of anxiety bubbled too high. “You got there before me. I was going to ask if you’re free today.”

Bucky’s eyes widened in delight. Today was looking to be great.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I gave the New Yorkers bagels for breakfast. Fight me.
> 
> The cabinets thing is based my old roommate, who’s over 6 foot and installed a kitchen designed perfectly for him. I once had to get him to put his head down to my eye level, just to how him how bullshit my life was when he left things in high places that I just can’t see.
> 
> Happy Holidays!!


End file.
